


the same old song

by blackbirddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 15:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18951064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbirddan/pseuds/blackbirddan
Summary: Phil's in Florida and he could really do without anxiety rearing its ugly head right now, thank you very much.





	the same old song

Phil knew when he woke up that it was going to be one of those days. He'd known it the day before, the feeling massing darkly in his head like the storm clouds over their villa, but he'd claimed exhaustion from their long day traipsing all over Orlando and had gone to bed early, hoping to head it off so he could enjoy the next day properly. 

No such luck. 

He brushed his teeth, trying to ignore his heart apparently trying to exit his body by crawling out of his throat, and headed downstairs to find his parents already dressed, wearing shoes and holding bags, ready to head out for brunch. That had been the point at which he'd mentally noped out, apologetically mumbled something about a migraine and told them to go without him. 

They'd looked worried and disappointed, and he hated himself a little for it, but he knew himself and his limits and right now, sitting in a bright Floridian diner surrounded by loud families and overly-chipper wait staff made something in his chest twist horribly. It took some convincing - they were happy to stay in and eat with him, they said - but Phil convinced them he'd be better off sleeping off his "headache" and seeing them later. 

Eventually, they relented and headed out, his mum tugging him down by the shoulders so she could press a kiss to his forehead as she passed.

Phil couldn’t help the relief he felt as the door closed behind them, leaving the house silent and empty. He usually hated being home alone, wherever he was, but right now he wanted some space and time to collect himself. 

He wasn't desperately hungry, but he knew he should eat. Poking around the kitchen, he found a box of premade waffles, and shoved two in the toaster. The only topping in the house was an enormous gallon jug of maple syrup, so once the waffles popped up, Phil drowned them in the syrup, before sitting down with a cup of decaf. Decaf was, in his opinion, practically a waste of water - but feeling like this, it was better to avoid the real deal, unless he wanted the pressure already building in his chest to become unbearable. 

The waffles were stale and bland beyond the sweetness of the syrup, and he found it difficult to force them both down. Once he had something in his stomach, he took one of his anxiety pills. They were only over-the-counter ones, but usually did enough to take the edge off.

Breakfast done, he settled himself on the couch atop a pile of Mickey Mouse-patterned throw cushions and flicked on the TV. And there he stayed for the next several hours, aside from multiple back-and-forth trips to the bathroom, which always seemed to increase in frequency when he was especially anxious. 

He had a half-hearted scroll through his phone, and tried to doze, zoning out to the drone of infomercials and daytime talk show hosts, unable to follow any of it. 

He sat up, swallowing hard, as his heart gave a particularly violent lurch, fear crawling up his spine. What if, this time, it wasn't just anxiety? He always assumed it was, and it always passed in time, but - what if _this_ time he was ignoring a real, bigger problem? Like something wrong with his heart? 

His phone screen lit up suddenly, and with one hand still resting on his chest he picked it up. It was a message from Dan, and he unlocked the phone to reveal a photo of a smiling golden retriever in a sunny garden. Moments later, a message appeared.

Dan  
  
**Dan:** one (1) good writing boye  
  


Smiling despite himself, Phil tapped out a reply.

Dan  
  
**Phil:** aww, a very good boye!!  
  


Phil quickly did the mental arithmetic and figured out it was six-ish back home before replying again.

Dan  
  
**Phil:** Done for the day?  
  
**Dan:** yeah  
  
**Dan:** we have a dinner thing in a bit  
  
**Dan:** the others are in the common room  
  
**Dan:** so ofc I left to find the resident dog  
  
**Phil:** Haha ofc  
  
**Dan:** bit peopled out after 4 solid days tbh  
  
**Phil:** I bet!  
  
**Dan:** what about you, doing sth fun?  
  


Phil paused.

Dan  
  
**Phil:** No not really  
  
**Phil:** Mum and dad went out  
  
**Phil:** Im not feeling so good so stayed here enjoying wonderful American daytime tv  
  
**Dan:** :(  
  
**Dan:** what's up?  
  
**Phil:** Just a bad headache  
  
**Dan:** ouch  
  
**Dan:** maybe the weather?  
  
**Dan:** lots of storms  
  
**Phil:** Yeah maybe  
  


A moment passed before the next messages appeared.

Dan  
  
**Dan:** want to chat for a bit?  
  
**Dan:** i have time before dinner  
  
**Dan:** unless you just wanna sleep it off  
  
**Phil:** No that would be gd actually  
  
**Phil:** I napped a bit already  
  
**Dan:** ok give me 10 mins to get back to my room  
  
**Dan:** this place is huge  
  
**Phil:** Sure!  
  


Phil glanced at the time on his phone. Ten minutes was plenty of time to tidy himself up a bit - maybe neaten his hair, currently a total disaster after lying on the couch all morning, or maybe even change out of his pyjamas. But he found a certain comfort in the knowledge that he was free to look as authentically pathetic as he felt, because he didn't have to pretend for Dan.

He did decide to retrieve his laptop, so he wouldn't have to hold his phone aloft for the duration of their call, and once it was open in front of him on the coffee table he resumed his position on the couch. It wasn't long before the incoming call chime sounded, and he smiled as he leaned forward to accept it. 

"Hi!" said Dan once the call connected. Phil's smile widened. Despite the relief he’d felt at having some time to himself, now he found he was grateful for the company, even if it wasn’t in-person.

"Is that a four-poster?" he said by way of greeting, taking in the luxurious looking bed Dan was currently sitting cross-legged on. 

"It is," said Dan. "I think every room has one. Very Hogwarts. It's tiny, though, my feet hang off the end." 

"At least you're not living in the actual Disney Store." 

"I saw your post," said Dan. "That's - I mean, it's strong theming." 

“That ‘strong theming’ continues in the bedrooms _and_ the bathrooms, by the way,” Phil said, thinking back to the Mickey-head-shaped soap he’d washed his hands with that morning, before drying them on the Mickey-embroidered hand towel.

“Yikes,” said Dan. “If it’s any comfort, the theme here is definitely murder mystery. I keep expecting a butler to appear and summon us all to the drawing room so Poirot can tell us who the real killer is.”

"I'm surprised you didn't bring the dog up with you for safety." 

"I would have, but he isn't allowed in the bedrooms." 

"Aww! Poor guy." 

"Maybe I'll smuggle him up when everyone's gone to bed." 

"So how's it going?" said Phil, glad to hear Dan's voice. They hadn't spoken except via text for four days - which wasn't an unusually long time for them, but Phil was keenly aware of the seven days still to go before he headed home. 

"Yeah, good, I think," said Dan. "It's been quite fast-paced, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Just a lot of different things to try out. And it hardly feels like you've finished one thing before it's right on to the next. But I suppose that's sort of the point, really? To try lots of things and see where your main interests might be. And to try and cram as much as possible into a few days, while they have everyone together. And of course, everyone has different ideas about... " 

Phil listened, letting Dan's voice wash over him, feeling soothed. It wasn't that he wasn't interested - he was, very much so - but it was a lot of information, and he couldn't -

“Phil.”

"Yeah?" he said, attention snapping back to the conversation at hand. Dan's expression was gentle, concerned. 

"How's your head?" he said quietly. 

It would be so easy to lie, Phil thought; to just say _much better, thanks_ and get on with the rest of the call, let Dan talk and talk about his experiences and wrap himself in the sound like a blanket. But if he’d learned anything from watching Dan wrestle with his own demons over the years, it was the importance of talking it through with the ones you love. Dan had trusted him with his own struggles when he had been at his lowest. How could he do any less in return?

"It's fine," he said dully. "I never had a headache, actually. I just wasn't feeling up to going out." 

"How come?" 

Phil twisted one of the cushion tassels between his fingers. "Just kind of - y'know. Anxious." 

"About anything in particular?" 

"No. Nothing I can think of, anyway." 

"Oh," said Dan. "Well, it - " 

He stopped himself abruptly, and Phil gave him an even look. 

"Were you about to say, 'it be like that sometimes'?" 

Dan's face creased into a laugh, and Phil felt himself smiling back. 

"Well, yeah," Dan admitted. "But then it just seemed a bit inappropriate. I did mean it seriously.” 

“Yeah, I know. And it’s true, but - ” He sighed. "I just feel like absolute shit. My chest feels so weird. Like, my heart is going mad.”

“Have you taken any tablets?”

“Yeah. They didn’t do much, though.”

“And did you eat something?”

“Yeah. Toaster waffles. They were pretty awful.”

“Water?”

“ _Dan_ ,” said Phil.

“Well, I’m just asking,” said Dan. “I know what you’re like, Mister three-cups-of-coffee-before-midday.”

“Yeah, well,” said Phil with a sigh. “I had decaf. And - I don’t know. I feel a bit bad about not going with Mum and Dad. I should have just sucked it up and gone out with them.”

“Doesn’t always work like that, though, does it?”

“I’ve done it before. _You’ve_ done it before.”

“Yeah, but you're on holiday. And they're your family. They'll understand if you need some time alone to chill.” 

“I know.”

Phil pressed his lips together as a wave of dizziness hit him. His throat felt tight and choked, and he pressed his hands over his eyes, before scrunching one into his hair.

"Hey." 

Phil lifted his head from his hands to see Dan had leaned in, closed to the camera. A knot of worry had appeared between his brows.

“I'm okay," Phil said, as much to himself as to Dan. 

“Mmm, I know," said Dan. "But still." 

Phil focused on breathing in and out, eyes closed. He hoped he could avoid a full-blown panic attack, but he'd rather fall to pieces in front of Dan than his parents. They'd care, of course, and they'd look after him, but they'd want to know what was wrong. 

_Is it work? Business? Is it money? Is it the flat? Is it Dan? Are you ill again? Did something happen? What do you need?_

They'd ask because they'd want to help, but Phil had never been able to figure out how to explain that they couldn't, really. He was grateful for Dan’s implicit understanding in this moment, and his specific brand of fussing, a different flavour to his mum’s and exactly what he needed right now.

He looked back up at Dan, who was watching him with a soft, worried expression. Phil was so grateful for him, but couldn’t help the guilt he felt looking at the concern so obvious on Dan’s expressive face. Phil had come out to Florida to relax, to take the rare opportunity to spend time alone with his parents, and not only was he now feeling worse than ever, now he was making Dan worry during such a significant week for him. 

“So what did you actually do today?” said Phil, desperate for distraction. “Did you write anything?”

“Yeah, a few things,” said Dan. “Though I’m sure you don’t want to hear my shitty poetry right now.”

“I’m sure it isn’t shitty,” said Phil. “And of course I do. If you don’t mind sharing it.”

“Well,” said Dan. “You know - some of it’s alright, actually.”

Phil knew that in Dan-ese this meant he was genuinely happy with it, which always gave him a little thrill. Dan was so down on even his best stuff so much of the time, and it always made Phil genuinely happy to see him proud and pleased with his own work. He swallowed against his tight throat as Dan scrolled through his laptop, looking for something to share.

Phil was self-aware enough to know that some of his current anxiety most likely stemmed from the very things Dan was scrolling through right now. It wasn’t the first project either of them had done alone since they’d met, but after a long period of lying fallow it was the first thing Dan had chosen to actively pursue, and alongside Dan’s decision to attend had resurfaced one of Phil’s oldest companions - fear about the future and his place in it. He didn’t like uncertainty, and all of this - as happy and proud as he was for Dan - threw up the biggest question mark he’d had to stare in the face for a long time.

“Hey,” said Dan, who was looking at him again. “Breathe, okay?”

“I am, I am,” said Phil, taking a deep breath nonetheless. “I do feel a bit better.”

“Good.“

“Go on, then,” he said, settling back against his cushions. “Read something.”

“Okay, bossy,” said Dan. “Okay, so this one is - “ He laughed, bashful, and Phil smiled at him fondly.

“Get on with it,” he said.

“I am!” said Dan. “Okay, just - don’t laugh.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be funny?”

“Well - yeah. Okay, well, laugh obviously, but don’t, like, laugh at - oh, whatever. Okay.”

He read the short poem, and Phil chuckled appreciatively. It really was funny. Dan had a knack for the unexpected, for clever and witty word choices that kept you surprised and laughing. Not that this was news to Phil.

“And how long did you have to come up with that?” he asked.

“Three minutes.”

“Wow, Dan. That’s brilliant.”

“Aww, thanks,” said Dan, making a mock-bashful face, but Phil could see the rosy patch blooming on his cheek. “You can imagine what it was like reading it to a room full of people I hardly knew with almost no warning.”

“Honestly, that sounds like the absolute worst.”

“I know. It’s a miracle I haven’t run off screaming into the countryside.”

“We both know you’d, like, fall in a stream and drown, or get eaten by badgers, or something.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Dan, laughing. “I’m an acclimatised city boy, what can I say?”

Phil laughed with him, genuinely this time. The laughter had loosened his chest - not completely, but enough that he felt like he could breathe a little easier. 

“Thanks for the chat,” he said. “I should probably let you go,” he added reluctantly. Dan glanced down at the time.

“I guess so,” he sighed. “The dinner starts pretty soon. I’d skip it, honestly, but the food here is amazing.”

“Enjoy,” said Phil. “Pet the dog for me.”

“Of course.”

“Um - Dan.”

“Mmm?”

“I miss you.” 

Dan’s smile was genuine this time, and fond.

“I miss you too.”

“It’s a shame you couldn't come this time.”

“I dunno,” said Dan. “Isn’t it, like, thirty seven degrees and pissing it down? Not gonna lie, it sounds shit.”

“Hey,” said Phil, slightly offended on Orlando’s behalf. “We’ve had some sun.”

“Ooh, do you have a tan? Wait, sorry, stupid question.”

“Actually, Daniel, I might be almost off-white.”

“Bloody hell. Wonders never cease.”

“Okay, well, enjoy your banquet,” said Phil.

“Thanks. Listen - call whenever, if you need to.”

“You too. Hope it’s not too peopley for you.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” said Dan. “Another session with the paparazzi.” Before Phil could reply, Dan was shifting, sitting upright, the picture on Phil’s screen becoming shaky and indistinct, and Phil’s heart gave the first pleasurable leap of the day as he realised what Dan was doing. 

Just like when they’d first started talking online, Dan lifted the laptop to his chest in the best approximation of a hug he could manage over the internet. Phil suddenly felt the distance between them acutely.

Dan’s face reappeared, grinning, right up close to the camera.

“Bye, Phil!” he singsonged, and ended the call.

“Bye,” said Phil, to the silent room.

 

* * *

By the time his parents came back in the afternoon, Phil felt quite a lot better. He’d found some bread in the freezer and made toast, and was delighted to see them carrying bags of what looked like groceries on their return. He hurried to help his mum with her bags.

“Sorry we didn’t have much in this morning, love,” she said. “Did you find something to eat?”

“Yeah,” said Phil. “Though I think those toaster waffles are out of date.”

“Well, we have cereal now,” said Kath. “And fruit, and yoghurt.”

They put the groceries away, and Kath put the kettle on. Phil wrapped his arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“You feeling better?” she said, rubbing his back.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said. 

“Did you get up to much?”

“Slept a bit,” said Phil. “And I talked to Dan.”

“Oh, good,” said Kath. “How’s he getting on?”

“Great,” said Phil. “Enjoying himself.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she said. “It sounds so exciting.”

It really was, Phil thought to himself, smiling.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, love,” said his mum. “It’s horrible to feel poorly on holiday.”

“It is.”

“Think you’re up to going out for dinner in a bit?”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

“Are you sure? It’s alright if you don’t want to. I can make something here if you’d rather.”

“No, Mum, it’s fine,” said Phil. “I do want to to go out.” He was surprised to find he actually meant it. Preferably somewhere with no Mickeys.

“Well I guess you’d better start by getting out of those pyjamas then, Philip,” she said, disengaging from the hug and manoeuvering him towards the door.

“Okay, fine,” said Phil, feeling the most human he had all day. “I won’t be long.”

He grabbed his phone and laptop to put them away in his room, and jumped in the shower. When he returned to his room, he had another message from Dan, this time a video. He opened it to see the same golden retriever from before, mouth open happily, tongue hanging out. Dan’s hand appeared in the shot.

“Shaaaaake?” came Dan’s voice. Phil’s eyes widened in delight as the dog placed his paw neatly in Dan’s hand.

“Such a good boy!” cooed Dan. The clip ended.

Phil watched it over and over, still in his towel, before he dressed for dinner. He tried not to let his imagination veer off into thinking about Dan teaching tricks to their dog, and was almost successful. The same question mark still loomed, but Phil tried to let his hopes outshine his fears.

He watched Dan and the dog shake hands once more, before heading downstairs to join his parents for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! [Reblog here](https://blackbirddan.tumblr.com/post/185119095076/fic-the-same-old-song). :)


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